August, 10 Years Later
by gardevoir
Summary: And it's strange; he feels as though a "Congratulations!" is in order, as though a "Welcome back!" should be said. But with the history they've had, it's not quite that simple.
1. eponymous

_I want to show the future I've drawn to you._

\- **August, 10 Years Later** , ZONE

* * *

 _prologue: eponymous_

* * *

— _**August 21st, 2026 - 21:00**_

He glances up from wiping down the countertop when the door jingles open. "Hey, Akira. I finished draining out the machines, so I'm gonna leave now, if that's okay," Mishima says, one foot already out the door.

Akira nods, back to cleaning. "Sure. See you tomorrow."

Though Leblanc is still the same size in the same place it had always been, joining Haru's chain of cafes and renovating the place into a retro coffee shop of yesteryear had brought about an unprecedented surge of popularity, one the cafe had never seen before. After Sojiro's retirement, the cafe had been passed onto Akira (Futaba had no desire to take ownership of it; she would much rather help out behind the scenes), and from there, Haru had requested making it the founding cafe of the brand. As homage, the chain itself had been named Leblanc; the skills Sojiro had given her were irreplaceable, and despite his departure from barista life, she had insisted he be honoured for his service, the name a permanent mark of his influence.

Near the door now with a broom, he smiles bittersweetly at the fixture that had remained for ten years now, tidying up around it. After his argument with Haru about paying for all of the renovations, they had then gone back and forth over what should stay and what should go… but there had been two things they absolutely agreed upon.

The first had been the installation of two windows downstairs to dispel the dank atmosphere; they flanked the only door into the building, outside street light spilling out onto the booth in front of one and the memorial in front of the other.

The second had been the grave honouring Akechi Goro's death. Even after the transfer of ownership of the cafe, Sojiro maintained it on the days Akira could not, visiting daily in observance of the cafe. Before Akira had even thought to broach the subject, Haru made it very clear that it would remain. "Even if it clashes with the design of the cafe, even if people think it shouldn't be out in the open, it stays. Everyone else may have forgotten him, but we won't. We never will."

He snaps himself out of his reverie, swallowing back the lump that had formed in his throat from the memory.

With the last bit of tidying up completed for the next business day, Akira steps outside into the humid air of a Tokyo summer night. Morgana greets him, his "owner" picking him up and placing him in the shoulder bag he carries before they depart.

(The more things change, the more they stay the same.)

"Ready to head home?" the feline says, making himself cozy in the bag. "I dunno about you, but I'm beat. Being the protector of Yongen-jaya is hard work! I deserve a raise for all that I do, you know."

Akira snorts, rolling his eyes at the discussion they seem to have nearly every week. "I might be the manager, but Haru's the one that has to approve raises. And I don't think either of us really know how to convert fish or sushi into a 'living wage' for a cat."

"I'm no cat! Just a human stuck in a cat body!"

"Right, right. Tell you what: I need to stop by Shibuya to pick up some things before we go home. We'll see what they have at Triple Seven and get you some convenience store sushi. Good?"

"Well, they won't have fatty tuna, but fine. I _suppose_ that will have to be a suitable per diem raise for your hardest-working employee."

The human laughs, patting Morgana's head affectionately before it disappears into the abyss of the bag.

They spend about an hour and a half in Shibuya, the lengthy amount of time accrued mostly because of the number of people walking the streets that evening. Summer break is in full swing for students, so the city is fuller than usual; there had been many tourists out and about as well.

The Station Square is the same story, Akira moving the bag to his front so that he can keep a protective hold on it; the last thing he wants is for Morgana to get crushed in his efforts to sift through the masses (and he is sure the feline would wish for the same). "Sheesh, shouldn't these people be in bed already?" he laments, poking his head out to observe the square happenings. "There's way too many people out tonight!"

"It's a summer Friday."

On their way to the underground, a most curious thing occurs. Hustling past those coming to and fro, the pair catches wind of a voice, gentle, but loud enough to cut through the usual chatter, apologising for bumping into others. "Ah, sorry. So sorry. Oh, I apologize. You see, I would just like to—oh, excuse me! That wasn't intentional."

At the sound, Akira's blood runs cold; looking down at the cat in his bag, he knows they share the same thought—that voice is far too familiar to ignore.

"Well… it's on the way to the stairs and we'll probably be waiting on our line for a while…" Morgana wants this burning question answered just as much as he does, if not more.

He parts through the crowd, movements growing faster and faster the closer he gets to the source, a flurry of hasty legs and forceful hands. Unlike the voice he chases, he speaks no apology to those he offends, currently of a one-track mind.

The furious flurry clears in an instant when he finds what he had thought he would never see again: a man of lengthy brunet hair stands in a tan coat that appears just a tad too small for his form, and much too warm for this weather. The black slacks do not quite fit him either, as the entirety of his ankles are exposed; the shoes seem to fit just fine, however.

Those that walk by criticize his appearance, though a few stray comments can be heard about how he is surprisingly handsome. Some others murmur about how he appears rather dazed and confused; "Is he okay?" "Do you think he's one of those crazy homeless people?" "His clothes don't really fit…" "If it weren't for his outfit, he'd be really cute…"

Akira scoffs at the ignorant chatter, feet moving again when the man begins to walk away. He catches up to the retreating figure, taking hold of his shoulder and tugging, spinning him around.

Staring at each other, a light of recognition flashes in reddish-brown eyes… but they soon go dull in question and confusion. "Oh. Hello there. Did you need something? Unfortunately, if it's money you need, I don't currently—"

"Akechi?"

The light returns, but leaves as quickly as it comes, just as before. The man glances all around him, then back to the one that had grabbed him, raising a gloved hand to his chest. "I-I'm sorry. Are you referring to me? Is… Is that my name?"

Akira blinks rapidly at this reply before peeking down at the pair of blue eyes glinting back in his bag. Snorting, he looks back to Goro, giving him a look of petulance—though a strain of worry plagues his thoughts. "Akechi, I know it's been a while, but you don't need to play dumb. No need to act like you don't remember me. It's me." He pauses. "...You know. 'Akira?'"

Goro tilts his head slightly, shaking his head no with a lack of understanding. "I wish I could say that that sounds familiar, but it truly doesn't. And now that you've called me 'Akechi' twice, I'll assume that _that_ is, in fact, my name. It sounds like a family name, though, not a given name… Am I correct in that assumption?"

The barista takes a step back in shock, the string of deductions validating the great concern he had hoped he would not need. "Oh, no…" he can hear murmured from his bag, heavy dread hollowing a pit in his stomach.

Akechi Goro had returned, but with none of his memories intact.

* * *

 ** _author's note_**

 **related fics to this story** **:**

 _most important:  
_ \- in a silver garden with you

 _supplemental material/context provider:  
_ \- out of body  
\- halfway to the halfway house  
\- she's my collar  
\- submission


	2. fragments

HELLO

didn't post anything on the prologue bc it was supposed to be all mysterious and ominous and super serious etc etc

anyway so this is my first attempt at a chaptered story in... phew like four years? I've literally only ever finished **ONE** chaptered story out of the now nine I've ever written {that's an 11% completion rate for all you nerds out there} so for the sake of saving this one from lowering that to 10%, I will try to force myself to update this story between Sunday and Monday evening

(I honestly just need to keep a consisting writing schedule but alas, I only do passion works)

next week {the one starting with the 23rd to clarify} will not see an update as I've teeeechnically updated twice this week so

gotta catch up on two requests I'm... super late on fulfilling lmao :')

* * *

 _fragments_

* * *

— _**August 21st, 2026 - 23:30**_

"Well, here's home," Akira announces with a flourish of his hand as he opens the front door. He flicks on the light using the switch adjacent to the door, allowing sight into the previously dim abode. Goro walks through first, at the apartment owner's behest, twirling around in wonder.

The apartment lies on a well-lit alley in Ginza; the lack of others out and about around the area gives one the impression that the place is rather quiet. Inside, immediately after the front door and the lip leading into the rest of the house lies the kitchen and living room, right across from each other. The walls are a soft, dull maroon while the floors of the living room are a shiny, polished cherrywood, a beige L-shaped couch and rectangular coffee table five feet away from the half wall; said half wall dividing the two rooms is slate grey, the floors of the kitchen behind it a lacquered chrome. The appliances of the kitchen are all black, while the walls here match the color of the half wall, the cabinets matching the colour of the living room floor. The table and its chairs that rest up against said half wall are red, the legs of both and the sitting half of the seats black. No pictures appear to be on any of the walls, half one included, though a square mirror hangs on the wall to his right.

"Wow, this is quite the place you've got here. For a moment, I worried for my safety, but… looks like you were trustworthy after all. Thank you, again, for allowing me to stay with you." His hair, now at shoulder length, obscures his face as he bows formally.

"Where the hell else would you have gone?" Akira mutters to himself as he scratches his cheek, clapping his guest's shoulder on his way past. "Are you hungry?" he asks as he heads to the kitchen, nearly a kitchen _ette_ in size. Before he begins his peruse through ingredients for dinner, he sets the shoulder bag down on the dining table, taking the bag of sushi and trading it for some of the other contents in the fridge.

"Ah, yes, I'm actually quite famished—oh, hello! Were you in his bag the whole time?" Goro watches as a black and white cat pokes his head out of the makeshift carrier, the rest of his body exiting in quick procession. "And what's this one's name?"

"I'm Morgana," the animal speaks while its gaze does not meet him… at least it sure sounds as though the voice comes from the animal… he really hopes it is _not_.

"A-Akira-san—and I apologize for using your given name so soon, so informally, but you haven't given me your family name—I… this may sound a bit… _out there_ , but did your pet just…?"

WIth the question, it is almost as if an alarm goes off in the barista's head, abandoning the rice cooker he had been in the middle of throwing the contents from the night before into a wok, snatching up the cat. "Forgive me," he whispers to Morgana as he holds him under his arm. Grasping the feline's lower jaw, he moves it in sync with own words, his practiced impression of Morgana's voice in use for his sudden ventriloquy.

"Of course not! My owner just likes to give me a voice whenever people ask about me. I'm a chatty cat, so sometimes he pretends to interpret what he thinks I'm saying." Akira laughs while setting down the "pet" which swipes at his hand, trying his best to cover its nervous undertones. "Sorry if that startled you. It's funnier when I take people by surprise with it. Right, Morgana?"

Luckily, the cat has enough sense to know to go along with the facade. "M-M… mreow!" he replies from the floor. Goro studies it with a skeptical look. "It has such an odd meow… It sounds almost fake."

"He's a unique cat, what can I say?" Akira shrugs as nonchalantly as he can manage before returning to his abandoned task of cooking. "Anyway, make yourself at home. Remote's on the coffee table if you wanna watch TV."

Once the guest moves from the front door and preoccupies himself with what appears upon the screen, the other two have a hushed chat. Perched on the counter beside where Akira cuts vegetables, Morgana speaks first. "He's really gone and forgotten everything… what are we gonna do? How did he even come back? Didn't Futaba sense his signal disappear in Shido's Palace!?"

The human brings a finger to his lips, a soft shushing sound pushed through touching teeth at the slight rise in volume. "I know just as much as you do, if not _less_. But for now, until we figure out how to handle this, you have to act like a normal cat. We don't know how trying to remind him of what happened will affect him, so let's just play it safe for now."

"Do you think we should tell the others?"

With no hesitation whatsoever, Akira nods. "There's no way we can deal with this alone. And, to be honest, they're a part of bringing his memory back; he has a right to know his past. But… let's wait before we do. Who knows if he'll end up overwhelmed by everything there is to tell him? At the very least, he needs to get acclimated to coming back in itself first. A decade is a _very_ long time to be gone."

"Were you saying something, Akira-san?"

The barista glances back, shaking his head. "Just muttering a few things to the cat. They make for good listeners when you're trying to organize your thoughts."

Goro's brow creases with concern, as if _he_ is the one that should be worried for the other, but he does not press any further. Instead, seeing the other man chop away, he asks, "Ah, is there anything I can do to help? I know you told me to make myself comfortable, but I would be remiss if I didn't show my appreciation for your kindness."

Akira does not look back this time, merely shaking his head no. "This won't take long. Stir-fry is easy enough to make solo. If you don't feel like staying seated you can lo—" He cuts himself off, reminded of the conversation he had just had with Morgana. ' _If he finds the photo album, that might be a problem._ ' "—looook over my cooking and see if it's to your tastes?" Both he and the cat subtly wince at the awkward save, but it seems to be enough to satisfy the former detective.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline; I'd been standing out at that square for quite a while. I hope that's alright."

"You don't have to follow my suggestions, Akechi… -san." He has to remind himself of the level of formality they had returned to, especially what with his guest imposing it so heavily from the start. "That's what they are. Suggestions." The one who currently fishes chicken out of the freezer chortles. "You don't have to appease me to stay in my house." ' _Can't really let you go even if I wanted to anyway._ '

"Oh, well, thank you," a relieved tone can be heard in his sighed reply, as though he had been treading carefully the whole time. Only Morgana sees the way his shoulders lose tension. "As far as your cooking is concerned, you appear to have at least some level of skill, so I'm sure it'll taste fine."

The now chef chortles again, but says nothing this time.

About twenty minutes later, Akira sets the dining table, a smaller plate placed on the floor next to the seat he always takes. He removes the package of sushi from the fridge, opening it and setting a few rolls onto the plate.

Morgana, of course, immediately takes great offense to this. "You're having me eat from the _floor_?" he hisses softly, bright blue daggers directed at his "owner."

"Listen, we just talked about this! Until further notice, you've gotta act like a real cat, remember? You don't think he'll question a cat sitting at a table?"

Realising an undisputable point had been made, the feline huffs, grumbling to himself about how he had better get some fatty tuna after all this is resolved.

"Food's ready," he speaks up to the one on the couch, retrieving the wok from the stove and plating an equal share to both sides.

"Is that sushi? For a _cat_?"

"He's got expensive tastes. It's just convenience store sushi, anyway." He returns the wok to the stove, sitting down across from Goro, who had apparently waited for him before touching his food. "Oh. You could have started. Thanks, though."

"I may not be the host, but I'd still like to be polite. After all, isn't a meal better shared?"

' _You may have lost your memory, but I see your charisma never left_ ,' Akira thinks, a gentle laugh pushing through his nose.

The pair eats in silence for the span of seven minutes, the brunet the first to speak. "Akira-san—and I'd actually like to resolve that now— you never did share your family name with me. While I am ever so grateful for your hospitality, we haven't known each other very long, at least, not that I can recall, it seems. So, think of this as a fresh start then, if you will. Now that we have just begun acquainting ourselves with each other—again—would you share that with me, please?"

"For someone who can't even remember their own, you're quite troubled over mine."

"W-Well, you see, I-I just don't want to overstep any boundaries and violate customs—"

"Akechi-san, relax. It's just a bit of teasing. We're 'acquainting' ourselves, remember? I know why you asked." Laughing quietly at the mildly flustered look his guest wears, he continues. "Kurusu. My family name. Kurusu Akira, that's me."

At the sound of the host's full name, a trance falls upon Goro, eyes glazing over as he appears essentially catatonic. "... Akechi-san?" said host murmurs, as if the vibration of his voice through the air will shatter him. Standing up from the seat, he walks over to his guest, left hand to right shoulder as the other lies flat on the table. He leans down slightly to get a closer look. "Akechi-san? … Goro?"

His eyes dart all over the other man's form, brow creasing as he lowers his head, spotting the ever so slightest movement of his lips, the only thing in motion of his otherwise rigid state.

' _Is he… saying something?_ ' With lips now to his ear, he freezes, a sensation of dread washing over him for the second time tonight.

"... _Joker_ …"

The moment Akira backs away, it is though the action had been the snap of fingers releasing the hypnotised from a mesmerising hold. "Wha—I-I—" Goro looks around, lost and distressed. Seeing the head of black grounds him, exchanging his own look of worry with the one his host sports… as well as light fear? Odd…

"Ah, I'm—I'm sorry, I apologise, I just… this, ah, this happened at the square as well when I saw where I was, I… it-it feels as though there's something at the fringes of my memory, but I can't quite grasp it… your name, it felt so…" He takes a deep breath, a hand to his heart as he contemplates his navel.

"Don't… don't sweat it. At least this tells us that your memory is somewhere in that head of yours." He offers a pat of the shoulder he previously rested on, glimpsing down at the cat who stares back.

This had certainly become a matter they could not handle alone.

* * *

Akira wakes at five in the morning, spending half an hour on a bath and another ten on a swift, silent breakfast. Though he had offered numerous times for him to take the bed, Goro had doubled down on his insistence toward taking the couch. He walks over to the back of the couch, peering down at the figure that groans something in his sleep before rolling over, back to the television.

' _Well, Yusuke probably wasn't gonna remember those clothes anyway…_ ' Setting up for bed, he had sifted through spare clothes, finding that none of his clothes were going to suit his guest (comfortably, as far as size was concerned; Goro would have probably taken anything he gave him, really). But in the back of his closet lied a forgotten travel bag Yusuke had yet to retrieve after one of his many crashes at Akira's place.

(Why the artist _still_ insists on roughing it here upon returns from art shows when he had a perfectly good home—and wife—in Roppongi is beyond him. Being closer to the airport by ten minutes seems pretty negligible to him, but regardless—)

His assumption that being an inch shorter than the artist would not make a difference had been correct; the change in Goro's build equated to Yusuke's healthy weight gain, thus allowing the clothes in the bag to fit perfectly.

He makes a few other preparations before his departure—namely, leaving a note on the coffee table for Goro, to alleviate any misgivings he may have about where his host had gone.  
" _Help yourself to anything in the cabinets or the fridge. I should be back around 1800 today. I left toiletries and a towel on the counter in the bathroom. If anything else comes up call me with the phone in the kitchen at +81 x-xxxx-xxxx._

— A."

' _Didn't think a landline would ever see any use in this day and age, but here we are._ '

The ride to work is silent between the human and his cat, the gravity of the situation hitting them now that the next day had come around and they left the house. "I… It all felt like a dream… one long, really weird, lucid dream…," Morgana mumbles, voicing the thought that Akira's brain struggles to comprehend.

His uncertainty with how to proceed from here and his worry over how Goro will fare without him there spells "distracted" to Mishima. "Akira, that's the third order you've messed up today. You feelin' alright? You never get orders wrong…"

"Sorry. I, uh… just worried about the end of the month and quarter coming up. You know how Haru gets about the end of quarters especially. 'Nice numbers to show investors' and all that." He shrugs, breathing an internal sigh of relief when his coworker falls for the excuse.

(Well, to be fair, it _is_ actually a great matter now that he reminds himself.)

"Oh, crap, you're right! You can come up with some fancy, like, end-of-summer special, right? Lemme get a picture and forward it to the other stores with the ingredients, then post it on the company's media accounts; try to remember it has to be easy enough for all the sites to make this time!"

The taller of the two laughs. "I won't go overboard like I did in April, don't worry." That Unicorn Frappe had been their best-selling drink to date, though. He had been quite proud of that one, even now. ' _Who cares about the loads of sugar that was in it? That had been half the appeal!_ '

-/-

But while the excuse for the blunders in his performance had worked the first day, they had not been of any use to him once the fifth day of his shoddy work came around. _And_ , of course, it just _had_ to be a day when the big boss was volunteering to help out.

"Akira," Haru says, intercepting him in the attic as he grabs some refills for the espresso machine, "you've reached a record number of wrong orders in the history of the chain. You even did worse than Mishima when that group of collegiate swimmers swarmed us two years ago!" The incredulousness of his feat can be heard very prominently in her voice. "Is everything alright?"

He nods, turning around to meet her once he had the bags in hand. "I'm fine."

She quirks an eyebrow, clearly not buying the response he tries to sell. "You sure? Personally, I think you look rather distracted. I don't know what's on your mind—you tend not to tell me—but it must be very important if it's affecting you this much." She approaches him, gently plucking the bags from his hold. "How's this: since I can manage in your absence, I'm sending you home early, and I'll take Morgana with me today. I won't dock your pay for the day either.

"Also, you hardly ever take your weekends off, even after I made them mandatory for you—oh, you didn't think I actually watch the security footage?—and whatever this is seems to need all your attention and energy. So, I want you to take tomorrow off as well. We'll see you back here Friday morning, okay? Enjoy your vacation."

"I can't believe you caught me. I was sure I rigged those cameras too," he fusses, frowning. "But what about Makoto? Weren't you talking with Mina about how you had a date with her tonight?"

She waves off his question, bumping him with her hip. "She won't mind me closing. She never leaves the precinct on time anyway; I'll probably get there before her even _with_ closing. Now get going, mister! Your distraction awaits!"

"Yes, ma'am." He salutes her before he jogs down the stairs in compliance with her orders; though she had retained her sweet-as-can-be demeanor, the terror she instilled when one argued with her over a decision she would not change had remained as well. Trying to fight with her, especially over a day and a half off, would have been both a pointless and lost battle; he had learned _very_ early on into their time as lovers that conceding defeat was typically the easier option.

(And for someone like him, who _loves_ to negotiate, there had been a reason their relationship worked better as friends and business partners instead.)

On the Ginza line, he allows himself to fall lost in thought, finally able to truly consider the idea that had come to him two days prior. He and Morgana had hit a wall in what actions to take next now that Goro knew their names, his own name, where they were, and the year. Since then, another catatonic episode had not occurred, but the two still wished to proceed with caution.

Though Akira had agreed that they tell the others soon, a week had not felt like a decent enough buffer between the former detective's return and the reintroduction to his past life… but with the secret eating away at him the way it had, it appeared that there were not many options left to take—if any other ones were left at all.

So, with a deep breath, he texts the group as he stands outside his front door.

 **Kurusu Akira [14:12]:** _Is everyone back in town_

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:12]:** _yusuke comes back tomorrow morning. what's up?_

 **Takamaki Ann [14:14]:** _My trip ended two days ago. Everyone's back in town. Did you want to meet-up? We can have it at my place this time! :)_

 **Kurusu Akira [14:14]:** _No_

 **Kurusu Akira [14:15]:** _Can everyone come to Leblanc after hours tomorrow_

 **Kurusu Akira [14:15]:** _I_

 **Kurus Akira [14:15]:** _Have something to share with everyone_

 **Sakamoto Ryuji [14:17]:** _This sounds serious. Ann and me can make it though._

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:17]:** _we'll be there. doubt haru and makoto will have any issues either, especially since one practically lives there._

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:18]:** _mind telling us what this is all about, tho?_

He debates sharing the news now, but if his friends' reactions are anything like his and Morgana's, they would need the time to recover from the shock—the time they themselves had not had the luxury of.

Encouraging himself with another long inhale and heavy exhale, he replies to Futaba's question.

 **Kurusu Akira [14:21]:** _Akechi_

 **Kurusu Akira [14:21]:** _Akechi… came back._

The switching of his phone to vibrate immediately follows, and as he feels the device in his pocket rumble with fury, he steps through the door.

* * *

 _ **author's note**_

a reminder: this story updates every **Sunday or Monday evening** , but _will not be updating next week_

thank you!


	3. gently

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh oops

do people even still read p5 fanfic anymore lmao...

* * *

 **— August 27th, 2026 - 13:00**

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:21:** _**WHAT**_

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:21:** _ **WHAT THE FUCK**_

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:22:** _COME BACK HERE I KNOW YOU PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY_

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:23:** _I CAN SEE IT'S DARK TAKE YOUR PHONE OUT OF YOUR FUCKING POCKET ASSHOLE AND ANSWER ME!_

 **Sakamoto Ryuji [14:23:** _Hey man, this better not be some kinda sick joke…_

 **Okumura Haru [14:24:** _Just read the messages. Is…_

 **Okumura Haru [14:24:** _Is this why you've been so distracted at work, Aki?_

 **[Missed call from** _ **Kitagawa Futaba**_ **] – 14:25**

 **[Missed call from** _ **Kitagawa Futaba**_ **] – 14:26**

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:26:** _FUCKIN_

 **Kitagawa Futaba [14:27:** _PICK UP YOUR PHONE DAMMIT_

The rest of the chat and his call history goes on in a similar manner for the span of about an hour and a half. Each minute of that entirety is filled with swears and speculations about the cryptic nature of Akira's last message and his immediate departure after the fact.

Despite this, he skims through the messages anyway… until the screen jumps to the message sent just seconds after he has checked his phone.

 **Kitagawa Futaba [13:01:** _THERE YOU ARE._

 **Kitagawa Futaba [13:01:** _DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO LEAVE US ON READ EITHER_

 **Kitagawa Futaba [13:02:** _EXPLAIN YOURSELF._

( _Of course_ Futaba would stalk the group chat. Perhaps he should have thought this through.)

 **Kurusu Akira [13:04:** _Futaba listen._

 **Kurusu Akira [13:04:** _I dont want to explain this here_

 **Kurusu Akira [13:05:** _All Ill say is that this isnt a joke_

 **Kurusu Akira [13:06:** _Please… please just be at the cafe tonight okay_

 **Kurusu Akira [13:06:** _Please believe me._

 **Kurusu Akira [13:07:** _And please go easy on him._

 **Kurusu Akira [13:08:** _Somethings…_

 **Kurusu Akira [13:09:** _Somethings wrong with his memory._

He spots a message from Ann come in, but he sets his phone to sleep before tucking it back into his nightstand drawer.

Akira presses the heels of his hands to his eyes as he groans, flopping back into the pillows below. He had woken up not five minutes ago, and he was already dreading the day. His dreams had not helped in the least, what with dredging up old memories of Goro that were… less than pleasant.

Oversleeping like this had only added to his troubles.

"Kurusu-san?" a soft voice says from behind the bedroom door with a gentle rap against it. It pauses before creating another. "Are you awake, Kurusu-san?"

The one in bed hesitates before ultimately answering. "I am. I really slept in, huh? I'll be out soon. Sorry."

"That's quite alright. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll be heading back downstairs. Oh! And good mor—well, afternoon." Akira hears a light chortle that retreats, footfalls descending away from his door.

He does not keep Goro waiting for much longer, making his way downstairs twenty minutes later. "Bathroom's all yours." The other resident bows respectfully on his way past.

Akira goes on the hunt for breakfast, noticing that there is something on the stove in a pot and another item in the microwave. In the former, he finds two hard-boiled eggs; the latter holds a plate of blobby, handmade pancakes. ' _Are these for me?_ '

He waits until the man returns, the former detective catching the figure that leans against the kitchen counter. "Ah! My apologies; I forgot to tell you that I've made breakfast. You hadn't woken up yet and I was growing famished. I will admit that my skills in the kitchen pale in comparison to yours, but it should be edible all the same. I hope you'll forgive me for using your kitchen."

Akira shakes his head as he shrugs off the counter, standing up straight. "You live here too. You're allowed to use the kitchen and any of the contents in it. Stop acting like a hotel guest." He pushes a laugh through his nose as he returns to the microwave to heat up the pancakes, plucking an egg out of the pot to snack on while he waits. "And thank you."

Goro nods once, adding, "I've made sure to wash the dishes I used as well. You've taken me in, but I still feel I shouldn't overstay my welcome."

The barista snorts, debating whether he should just tell him that he will be living here indefinitely. He concludes that that will be a conversation for another time; there is already far too much on his plate today.

And watching the head of brown that makes to leave with a pile of laundry only adds yet more.

"Whoa, okay, no. I'm running out of quarters at an unprecedented rate because of you. You really need more clothes. After I finish breakfast—"

"It's brunch at this time, actually."

"—we're gonna get you some more clothes."

The surprise on his face is obvious. "What? Kurusu-san, I've no funds!"

"… I'm paying?" The look and headshake he gives the other accompanies a tone of an unspoken "obviously?"

"Wh—you—Kurusu-san, you've shown me an incredible amount of hospitality in just this week alone—I couldn't possibly—I'll just continue to reuse these clothes!"

"Hey. You're burning through my laundry budget and I won't let you stink up the place by wearing them multiple times before washing them. You can pay me back whenever you can get around to it, if it's really that important that you do so. Sound good?"

Goro stammers for a bit longer before conceding, giving Akira a deep bow in a show of thanks, placing the basket on the floor. "I really don't know what to say!" he says, maintaining his pose. "Your kindness seems to know no bounds and I—"

"Yes, yes, I know." Akira grabs the other's shoulder as he walks past with his plate of reheated pancakes, bringing the brunet to full height before grabbing his upper arm to pull him closer to the living room and away from the _genkan_.

He is thankful that their opposing positions hide the blush on his face quite well.

(He is not sure how much more of this excessive gratitude he can take.)

"Just let me finish this breakfast—"

" _Brunch_ ," Goro corrects again.

"—and we'll head out. Are you ready to go?"

The former detective gives himself a look over—adorned in a navy blue short-sleeve and a gray hooded vest with black jeans and matching sneakers—before nodding and settling on the couch in wait. "I believe so. Take your time. I hope the food is to your liking.

* * *

With an encouraging smile from his new roommate and a surprised impressiveness, Akira finishes his brea— _brunch_ in double time, the pair on the streets of Ginza within ten minutes. They make idle chat for five before Goro brings up their objective in this excursion. "You would probably like to avoid department stores, correct? I don't need anything particularly extravagant and I wouldn't want to overextend any budget you may have…"

The barista makes a noise of indifference before shrugging. "You're really worried about imposing on me, huh? Listen. Ginza is _the_ shopping center of Tokyo. We'll go into whatever store catches your eye and buy whatever clothes pique your interest. It's about time you stop borrowing someone else's clothes. They don't suit you at all and Yusuke's gonna ask for those back sooner or later… or at least, I'll have to remind him about them."

His chuckle is cut short by the other's "… Yusuke?" seeing the way his brow furrows in frustration and his eyes light up with the faintest recognition.

With the desire to avoid another episode under broad daylight—especially in the public eye—Akira swiftly returns to the topic at hand. "The point is: your clothes are borrowed, and you'll have to return them at one point or another, so don't worry about where we shop or how much it'll cost. I can afford it and you need it. Like I said before, we'll worry about paying me back when you can manage to do so."

"Ah, right… fair enough," Goro concludes.

Though the tension is scaled down now, Akira reflects on that interaction for the duration of their shopping trip, fixating on the way Goro's expression had transformed at the mere mention of Yusuke. While rather removed, the similarities between that and the reaction from a week ago at the sound of his full name could not be denied.

' _Should I really bring him to Leblanc tonight?_ '

The thought does not last, as said subject has already moved onto the next piece of clothing he finds himself enamoured with. "Ah! Kurusu-san! This coat! It's like the one I wore at the station!"

The addressed chortles, motioning for him to take it up. "Let's make sure this one fits this time."

When the former detective emerges from the fitting room, Akira blinks a few times, mouth opened slightly to speak but entire being frozen in place. He is taken back to his dream, back to their tainted history—up until he snaps out of it due to two notable reactions at once.

"… Kurusu-san?" a known voice speaks hesitantly as two female voices murmur off to the side.

"Oh! That coat looks very sharp on him! But… why does it seem so familiar…?"

"That man… don't we know him from somewhere…?"

"L-Looks great!" Akira nearly shouts as he jumps to his feet, quickly ushering Goro back into his changing room stall and away from those inquisitive eyes.

Though the brunet finds himself a bit puzzled by his companion's actions, he does not question them, even when the man takes the hood of his vest and pulls it up over his head as they leave the store. "The breeze is picking up," he hears, though none can be felt on this warm August day.

"Oh, thank you," he replies as neutrally as possible in an attempt to beat back his curiosity. The slight frown he catches on the other's face tells him he had not quite managed.

* * *

The pair spends most of their daylight hours on obtaining a new wardrobe for the recently returned, the former detective bearing far more bags compared to the barista—all at his own insistence. "Akechi-san, you know I—"

"Ah, we're here!" He throws a wide grin over his shoulder when he sees the apartment door not six meters in front of him. "Kurusu-san, if you could…"

Akira returns his expression with an exasperated sigh, nudging the door open and stepping aside with a sweep of his hand, allowing the more encumbered to step through first. Goro returns to the door when he realises no one has followed in after him. "Kurusu-san? Is everything alright?"

The head of black starts at bit as he stands, turning around and stretching after kneeling for so long. "Ah, sorry. Right behind you." The sound of three cats chewing trails him as he steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

Goro sneaks a peek at the trio before the door closes, eyes now trained on the man in front of him. "Where's Morgana? He's not at the door and he didn't come home with you yesterday. Does he not usually accompany you everywhere?"

Though he is lightly surprised by the inquiries, the shock only comes about through the barista's anticipation of the question _far_ earlier. "Usually. But he strolls around some days. Or when I need time to myself, Ha—"

While he knows his three-second pause is far too long to go unnoticed, he utilises it anyway, calculating the risk versus reward in mentioning yet another name lost to Goro's memory. After the way he reacted to Yusuke's name, he decides it would be better dealt with when the time for it came.

Tonight.

"—uh, _my boss_ will take him home for a day or two. He's a day roamer anyway."

Eyes narrow with confusion. "Y—… Your boss? Taking your cat home on a whim?"

"We've been friends longer than we've been boss and subordinate." Akira waves away any further questions, taking the bags he was tasked with and melding them into the amalgamation on the living room floor. "Ah, we were so preoccupied with this that I forgot to mention. We'll be heading somewhere tonight, probably in about an hour. I have some… friends I think you should meet. I'll make us a quick meal while you put your clothes away and we'll leave a little after we've finished up dinner. Is that alright with you?"

After a hesitant nod of affirmation, the two spend the next twenty minutes cooking and storing respectively, taking another ten to eat, and the last thirty storing away some more. Akira fetches his phone from the nightstand drawer near the end, ignoring the hundreds of group messages to send his own.

 **Kurusu Akira [19:57]** : _Im headed to leblanc now_

 **Kurusu Akira [19:57:** _Sorry for not setting a time earlier_

 **Kurusu Akira [19:58:** _If everyone could be there within the next 30 minutes Id be happy to explain everything_

He puts the phone to sleep before pocketing it, once again ignoring the flurry of vibration buzzes his newest message has created. "Ready to go?" He bends at the _genkan_ , pulling his shoes back on. Once he stands at full height, he sees the slightly taller one not a meter in front of him.

"Ah, yes! Sorry to keep you waiting."

Though his brow creases in more exasperation at the exorbitant politeness, the black eyes that meet maroon smile just a tad, gradually sliding into worry as they both sway on the subway. He observes Goro's fascination with the advancements made to the cars in his long absence with amusement while he still can.

(It _is_ , after all, the only thing keeping his impending dread at bay.)

Once they find themselves on the streets of Yongen-jaya, Akira feels that dread set sail, the oppressive weight settling both in his stomach and on his shoulders. " _This won't end well,_ " he hears whispered on the night air. He glances around for the source, only finding the former detective inspecting the changes to the streets he can vaguely recall.

The cute display of curiosity does not quell him this time.

"Here's Leblanc," he announces at the door, unlocking it and flicking on the lights as he takes the first steps into the coffee shop. With its previous darkness and a quick glance into the booths and kitchen, he finds that they are the first to arrive.

Goro closes the door behind him, his feet rooted to the entrance as he scrutinises the premises unabashedly. "Kurusu-san… have you worked here for a while? The name itself only prodded at my memory, but now that I'm standing here and seeing it for myself, something about this café is… I feel as though I'd once frequented this place…"

Before the barista can formulate a reply, the former detective continues, finally uprooting himself from the entrance and seeking the decorations directly to his right. Hanging on the wall, he finds an ukiyo-e painting of a woman, stark black hair pulled back tightly, a baby held in her red sleeves; she looks down at it with affection. Directly below it lies worn but maintained cardboard, some lightly wilted white lilies flanking the vertical grey piece resting atop the equally grey slab of the horizontal piece.

Before he can even fully decipher the first character on this makeshift gravestone, Goro finds himself yanked into a booth—seemingly deliberately faced away from the object of remembrance. "… Whom is that grave for?"

"An old friend that we've missed. Please sit here." Akira answers politely, though the stiffness is not lost on the brunet. Though he forces a smirk upon his lips, the tautness that pulls at them is palpable, permeating and weighing heavily upon the atmosphere.

"… _Miss_ _ **ed**_ _?_ "

Interrupting the beginning of his investigation into language semantics, the door to Leblanc opens with a jingle of the bell that rests atop the doorframe, signaling their first guests of the evening.

' _Oh, no._ '

"Hey! Explain yourself, bastard! What, did you have a fuckin' _Balm of Life_ in your back pocket that day!?" A head of electric blue sneers sarcastically as it stomps its way into the quiet coffee shop, long hair pulled back into a high ponytail to show off the pastel blue shaved sides. Dressed in a military green open vest and a white graphic tank top, her black leggings and matching ankle-high boots stop in their tracks as she stares directly at the man who swivels around in his seat at the booth to study her.

Trailing her is a man of stature and size near equal to Goro's, long indigo hair sweeping past his shoulders, brushing stray strands away from his face. Donning a long-sleeved beige shirt and black jeans with accompanying loafers, he looks upon his companion in confusion when he bumps into her. "Fu, whatever is the ma—"

"Oh, you, uh—y-you dyed your hair again!" Akira exclaims with feigned surprise; the lady of the Kitagawa pair had almost always sported a new cut and colour every time he saw her. Really, the statement had been made purely to preempt the questions he sees rising to the surface once the two had cured themselves of their _Stunned_ status. "Please take a seat. We're just waiting on the others…"

The pair in wait watch as the new arrivals settle awkwardly into the booth directly behind the brunet, Futaba intentionally breaching his personal space for assessment. Much like his own discerning eye, she inspects him, though he feels something about her methods peer much deeper into discerning truths than his own abilities permit.

The man seated across from her is similar in this regard, though the glimpse of a sketchbook in one arm and a pencil in his hand make his intentions a bit clearer.

" _Akira._ How—"

"I know out of all of us, you have the longest list of questions and they're probably the most pertinent as well. But before we get to that, can we wait for everyone else to show up? Please?" The desperation and stress in his voice is as clear as the day was. "I'll do my best to explain everything I know then. I promise."

" _Fine._ Yu?"

"I'm just as baffled as you are. Even sketching him here, I feel as though I should doubt my own eyes… However, we should do as Akira says. He's obviously under great duress; after all, it would appear he's held onto this fact for longer than we think. I doubt he's decided to share now without having come to a calculated decision first…"

As Goro turns back to face Akira, the latter answers the questions he can see the former holding in his eyes and on his lips before he can give them a voice. "They're recently married. The one with the ponytail is Kitagawa Futaba—formerly Sakura Futaba—and the one toiling away on his sketchbook is Kitagawa Yusuke. She's a programmer and one of the country's best hackers, while he's a famous and renowned artist. We—and the others showing up—we've all been friends since high school, and those two have always been very strange. Don't mind them."

"Futaba and Yusuke…?" Trying the names out on his tongue, Goro finds himself closing his eyes in light distress, bringing a hand to his forehead, fingertips pressed to his skin. "Ah, I-I'm sorry, I feel a bit…"

"Akechi-san?"

The door chimes once again in the middle of Akira's concern, the newest appearances making themselves known.

"Aw! We made it here in double time and we _still_ weren't first!" The whine of a feminine voice precedes its owner, a bobcut blonde beauty strutting in on blood red heels. She wears black leggings and an asymmetrically cut blinding white dress, layered with a shawl, the red notably matching those of her heels. "I thought you said we'd beat everyone rushing like that!" she pants over her shoulder to the man that has accompanied her while her hands meet her knees.

"It's not my fault the Kitagawas live closer to Yongen than we do!" The spiky head of black retorts, looking positively relaxed comparatively; the lack of a broken sweat is almost comical in its opposition to the perspiring woman. Standing broadly, the black graphic tank with purple sides gives the appearance of a garment whose life hangs in the balance—a single flex may tear it. Unlike everyone else that has arrived so far, this man is dressed rather comfortably, what with his black sweatpants and flashy orange running shoes.

It is with this pair that a familiarity with current selections of colour schemes in clothing strikes Goro. While still facing the door and the new visitors, he opens one eye and moves his hand to the side that keeps the other closed, fingers pressed to his temple to give himself even the slightest reprieve from his compounding headache. "A-And these two?"

Unable to catch the former detective's growing distress, Akira satisfies the query about the squabbling pair, too engrossed in their meaningless tiff to be aware of the four that watch them. "That's Takamaki Ann and Sakamoto Ryuji. The former is an international model and the latter is a physical therapist for national sports teams and Olympians—typically track runners. They've been dating for ten years now, with seemingly no current plans to get married. I really couldn't tell you what's taking them so long; maybe all of _that_ has something to do with it."

His opportunity to chuckle is lost as Goro faces him once more, a pained snarl corrupting his usually cheerful visage. Akira makes to stand at the sight, hand reaching out to place a hand on the other's shoulder in trepidation as he kneels one knee onto the brunet's seat. " _Akechi-san?_ Is everything—"

The bell tolls one last time.

"Ah, even with this, I could barely drag her out of the precinct!" A recognisable black and white feline leaps down from the arms of a baby blue long-sleeve. Her calf-length pleated salmon skirt and sandy brown low ponytail trail behind as her brown loafers carry her; she strides past the recently concluded bickering and ever-prying silent eyes to the bar, her own growing wide with a sharp gasp as she spots who sits in the last booth behind Akira's form.

"So, it's true. He really is back…" The head of long mahogany hair pinned into a simple bun stands beside the other woman at the bar, crossed arms partially obscuring her cerulean blouse and black dress pants crossing at the ankles, one of her brown heels tapping at the toe in an unknown rhythm.

With a quick glance at one another, the two women speak simultaneously, interrogation evident in their tone. "Akira—"

" _Miss Okumura and Miss Niijima_ , if you could refrain for _just_ a moment—" the addressed hisses sardonically as he snaps his head in their direction to glower, surprising all with his response to his elders. The silence that follows thrums with its tension.

"O-Okumura… Niijima…," Goro breathes as his companion is turned away. The hand at his temple creeps up to his hairline, accompanied by the other as fingers tangle into the strands. The appendages flex until they have found firm purchase, pulling tautly; the scream of his scalp competes with the pounding that only grows stouter— _stronger_ —in his head. "Okumura… Haru and… Niijima M-Makoto…," he murmurs a bit louder, catching everyone's attention.

Softening his features, Akira returns his attention back to the brunet, the anxiety that slowly gives rise to panic poorly disguised on his face. "Akechi-san, do you…" He takes a deep, measured breath as he pauses, _shuddering_ on the exhale; the bated breath of seven others robs the room of air, waiting on the question they so desperately want to hear.

"Do you… _remember them?_ "

The answer he receives is a blood-curdling, ear-piercing scream.

* * *

 **long author's note incoming**

whew okay so first and foremost to get this out of the way: the outfits that the PT are wearing when they show up to Leblanc match the colours of their winter casual wear, which is why Akechi recognised it. I just adjusted the items for summer wear bc I think I'm clever :)

anyway hi hello holy shit it's been almost two years since I last updated this story and boy howdy did a lot happen in those two years

shit nearly killed my motivation to write for good and I'm rusty again oops

anyway idk if I'm gonna update this story as consistently as I had aspired to those two years ago but I'll at least try to update like one more time before the end of this year that seems doable LMAO I say as if putting an expectation on myself to pump out content won't kill my motivation again rip

I'm like partially considering setting up a or something? idk fulfilling writing requests without some sort of payment through a barter or money is like super exhausting y'all; this chapter alone took 8 hours to handwrite and then type up and edit etc etc

but wanting money for writing means I'd actually have to be a good writer HAHAHA anyway idk I'm still playing with the idea and I'd only charge accounts whenever I produce a chapter or a one-shot (which at this rate is once a year so what is there to even worry about LOL) so if you like this stuff and want to see more of it and would maybe be willing to support me or at least throw me a quick buck on like ko-fi or something please let me know

("they want money for their labour?" HELL YEAH I DO BABY THAT'S LATE STAGE CAPITALISM AND I NEED MONETARY MOTIVATION)

moving on, if you want to provide support/motivation in non-monetary ways, please feel free heckle me on twitter about my absolutely dreadful levels of procrastination I love to chat and I literally can't get enough of the sight of my own words on the internet so hmu fam

oh also I have a tangentially related one-shot in the works for this series bc I can't go an entire year without taking my Trauma (TM) and turning into a Waa-Waa I'm Sad (C) one-off fanfic thing because if I must suffer, so must everyone else that reads my shit-so look forward to that (it's actually gonna be out in a timely manner I swear)

anyway thank y'all so much for your patience I hope to post something for this again soon ;_;


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